


Glorious

by Lucyemers



Series: The Hour- Missing Scenes [1]
Category: The Hour
Genre: F/M, Flashback, Missing Scene, Season 1 Episode 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucyemers/pseuds/Lucyemers
Summary: "I haven't danced since the 40's""Nonsense, you glorious woman!"





	Glorious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [middlemarch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/gifts).



“I haven’t danced since the ‘40’s!” He put a hand to her lower back, pulled her closer, leaned into her as he swayed, a bit giddy, a bit drunk. “Nonsense you glorious woman. Look at you!” She laughed. And he tried to lose himself in it. Tried for just a dance to stop thinking. It didn’t work. 

_“Freddie... She was there, she broke the news in 1940 that the British troops had arrived in France!”_

_She shifted her entire body around to face him, and the passing streetlights caught in her wine-bright eyes. They hit a pothole and she grabbed onto his shoulders to keep from falling off the seat of the cab. He knew they were being excessive, they never took cabs, but they both had work now, even if it was in that dusty basement._

_“And what was I doing in ‘40?” He’d mumbled petulantly, “Hiding out in the country and learning to play cricket with aristocrats.” Her mouth quirked a bit at the side and she let her head tip a bit. She was going for mock sympathy and it wasn’t working. Her own irritation at having been similarly young and useless was pulling at her. He could tell. She’d been tucked into an idyllic, pastoral, posh boarding school during the same year. They’d only ever talked about it once--their shared feeling of having missed a moment, more than a moment--an era, due to youth and the, no doubt well meaning, adults in their life who had kept them from what they desperately needed,even then--information. They’d only ever talked about the war and their place in it (or lack thereof)one depressingly sober evening. He could see her wincing from it now._

_“You were a child.” Her dismissive tone was almost convincing. He tucked her hair behind her ear and she sighed leaning into his hand in that cat-like way she had when she was drunk or sick or sleepy. She sighed. “And we aren’t talking about you, Freddie”, she’ teased as she shifted closer leaning her head on his shoulder, “We are talking about her. I mean have you seen the photographs in her desk drawer? It isn’t only that she’s seen such things, it’s that the world has seen these things because of her.” She breathed the pronoun into the air with such reverence. It had reminded him of the way she used to invoke authors he’d never heard of, or fine wines she was insisting he sip slowly. She sighed deeply and he put an arm round her as she closed her eyes._

_“You’re drunk, Moneypenny”, he’d whispered into the top of her hair._

_“Mmm”...she’d murmured barely acknowledging him before blissfully remarking, “Even her name...Alexis Storm…”_

_“Lix”, he said casually, even as he sat up a bit straighter._

_“What?” she mumbled into his shoulder, startled out of her reverie._

_“She calls herself Lix” he replied._

_“Even so”, Bel continued, “That woman is glorious.”_

He never regretted any book Bel had made him read, never regretted any wine she’d poured him to drink. Not even when he knew she couldn’t pay their bar tab. Not even on all the following dizzy, nauseous mornings. Bel’s taste was impeccable. In most things. Perhaps not in men, he thought bitterly as he approached the studio with Lix. But about this she had been right,he thought, as he gave in to impulse, pulling her along her office floor as with each kiss he drank deeper, tipsy off her easy smiles, held and touched by her sure hands, encompassed by her knowing eyes. He was kissing Lix Storm. And the woman was glorious.


End file.
